


I am Me

by PencilofAwesomeness



Series: Post-Edolas Drabbles [1]
Category: Fairy Tail
Genre: Character Study, Drabble, Gen, Name Drabble, Post-Edolas Arc (Fairy Tail)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-24
Updated: 2020-03-24
Packaged: 2021-03-13 22:20:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28660869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PencilofAwesomeness/pseuds/PencilofAwesomeness
Summary: Mystogan has a lot of adjusting to do after he returns to Edolas. The biggest issue, however, is that everyone keeps calling him "Jellal."
Series: Post-Edolas Drabbles [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2100447
Comments: 2
Kudos: 4





	I am Me

**Author's Note:**

> I actually wrote this right after I watched the Edolas arc for the first time, in March. (And here I am, posting in January. Shame.) I hadn't posted it immediately because I wasn't sure if canon would turn around and make me a fool, but it actually didn't come up again until 100 Years Quest... Of course, I had forgotten about this until now, after posting the Mystogan scene in _How to Raise Your Dragon Slayers_ but I thought it would be fun to post just cause now. And it might not mean much, but I _called_ it.

“Prince Jellal.”

“ _Prince._ ”

Mystogan startled, raising his head away from all of the documents to see the person in the room. He didn’t even hear her. Normally, he would have been able to sense the magic approaching, but that was no longer on the table for a multitude of reasons. He knew that this was for the best, but it would be a lie to say that he wasn’t having trouble adjusting to a lack of magic either, especially after living on Earth Land for over seven years.

“Yes, Knightwalker?” he greeted. Seeing Erza’s face on her was still disconcerting, but he would manage. Surely, in time, he would see her as different.

She nodded curtly, standing at attention. “The unit heads wish to have a meeting with you.” He couldn’t yet tell if something was bothering her, or if this was simply this Erza’s way of being. “They want to know how things are going to be established, moving forward.”

 _Of course_ , they would. Focusing on the rebuilding efforts was easy—task-based. Leading a nation? He was terrified. Lily and his guildmates, for some reason, seemed to think he could handle it, but Mystogan sincerely doubted that he could ever live to be the charismatic leader that the people seemed to build him to be. The night of the incident? That was probably the most he had to talk to crowds in _years_ , and most of that was just him trying to dissuade Natsu from making him fight him, which in hindsight, was a waste of breath: Natsu had been challenging him to a fight for as long as he knew him. He typically never appreciated being KO’d with sleep magic instantly, but at least Natsu accepted it as a loss and moved on…to try again later.

“Okay.” Would it be like a council, or a bunch of people expecting him to make a decision? Maybe he should establish a council. “When?”

“They’re already gathered, your majesty.”

Mystogan stood, trying to keep from indulging in a deep sigh. He doubted they would appreciate if he wore his hood. Shame. It would be so much easier that way. “Lead the way, then.”

“In this time more than ever, the people need a symbol.”

_Somebody kill him now._

Byro shifted around in his seat, probably still uncertain of his position. Mystogan had no problem with the elder, so long as he didn’t get involved with military operations again. The unit generals seemed to agree with him though. Was only the military here? No, the fancily dressed individuals were the nobles of the city. “Ki— Faust made…mistakes…surely, but the people respected him as a leader because he showed himself as one. Prince Jellal, we must plaster your great name across Edolas so that people will rest assured in your majesty.”

_A quick death would be nice._

“Is that really necessary? I might as well be a foreigner to this land. I may be the face of change, but must I be the face of…everything?”

“Prince Jellal,” a noble spoke. All these people addressing him made him uneasy. They were talking to somebody else. “The people will readily accept your unfortunate circumstance and welcome you back home to us.”

“In fact, a speech about your troubles and your grit would inspire people more!” another man agreed.

“Prince Jellal.” He felt the unease grow. He wanted to leave, but Mystogan knew he shouldn’t. “We are ready for you to lead us. You can be—nay, _will_ be—our new king!”

“King Jellal! King Jellal!” The generals, and then the nobles, took up the chant readily, excitement spreading to all in the room but himself.

He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t be who they wanted him to be—he didn’t know if he _wanted_ to be that person, whoever he was. The pressure rose in his chest and swelled in his throat.

“No!” His plead escaped into the air, and the room stilled. “No.”

Byro spoke up hesitantly in the silence. “What is your objection, your majesty?”

What _wasn’t_ his objection? He wasn’t fit to be king. He wasn’t ready to be a symbol. He couldn’t go before the people and weave the sob story that the nobles and generals expected of him, because the years in spent on Earth Land were far greater than his years in Edolas ever were. And to top it off, he was a stranger in more ways than one, because— “That’s not my name.”

“Pardon?”

_He had been traveling Earth Land for approximately one week when he ran into the girl. She was crying, lost, and so impossibly small and alone; she reminded him of himself._

_“What’s your name?” the girl, Wendy, asked with wide brown eyes. They were dryer now, because for some reason his presence calmed her._

_“…Jellal.” A moment too late, he realized his mistake. There would be another Jellal here, somewhere, but he wasn’t affiliated with that Jellal. (Was Earth Land’s Jellal like him? Different? Was he an outcast? A pillar of society? Did he have the misfortune to be important at all?)_

_“Jellal,” she repeated happily._

_He blinked once, accepting her hug despite his confusion. It was odd: he wasn’t used to people saying his name without malice._

_“Oi! What’s yer’ name, brat?”_

_The boy ignored him. The Anima was around here somewhere, and if he didn’t close it, then this entire forest and the town with it would be lost forever._

_It was easy not to talk. He missed it for a time after he dropped Wendy off in that village, but it was easier this way. He was a ghost to the wind—an outcast of his home world and a foreigner to this one. Yet somehow, it was easier than it had ever been in Edolas._

_‘Jellal’ had been nothing but a prince in name alone, and even then, his father didn’t care much for him. Not with the magic crisis. Not as his hunger grew._

_He was different now—not a prince, but a soldier. A pariah, maybe. Or just a lost kid fooling himself._

_He didn’t know anymore._

_“—ake up. Hey! Son, are you alright?”_

_Everything hurt. The Anima couldn’t be closed with his staff alone, so he… What did do again? Did he close it at all? Panic surged through him._

_The old man was hovering over him still, and the thirteen-year-old realized he was on the ground. “What happened? The town—”_

_“The town’s fine,” the old man interjected, almost suspicious. “I suspect you had something to do with that, hm? That hole in the sky.”_

_No one had ever noticed an Anima before. They never knew to look. The young teen struggled to get up, but he only succeeded in an awkward slouch. His entire body felt sore and heated, as if his blood had been boiled and then chilled. He might throw up. “Who are you?” he croaked. The old man’s presence made him uneasy and grounded at the same time._

_“Makarov,” he responded easily. “And are you…Jellal?”_

_“What?” How did he know him? Was he from Edolas, sent to kill him? He should cast sleep magic on him and make a run for it, but he didn’t have the energy nor the presence of mind to do that. His mask was off, he realized. He had that stupid marking on his cheek, and it made him stand out far more than he liked to. The idea of people recognizing him, whether **as** him or someone else, always frightened him._

_“No,” the man decided, squinting. Regardless, he made no move to hurt him. After a moment to collect himself, he realized that Makarov bandaged his abdomen. “You have a different magic, don’t you? What’s **your** name?”_

“My name is Mystogan.” The room was quiet enough that his whispered statement seemed sure.

_“I am Mystogan of Fairy Tail.” The S-Class wizard was not deterred by the thugs that gathered in the forest, but he did enjoy how they paled before his cloaked figure. It was obvious that they intended to cause somebody in the guild harm._

_“You will not lay a finger on my home.”_

He was no longer in the guild, but he would always be a part of Fairy Tail. Mystogan might have been born out of secrets and self-inflicted exile, but it was the identity he made. Given the choice again, he found that regardless of what he or his counterpart did or was, he would always choose to just be ‘Mystogan.’


End file.
